


The End of the World (As They Know It)

by dandelionpower, mosslover



Series: Mitchers Apocalypse AU [1]
Category: Being Human (UK), The Almighty Johnsons
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, apocalypse au, established relationship (in a way), protective Anders, some violence including blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-19
Updated: 2015-08-12
Packaged: 2018-04-05 05:08:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4167117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dandelionpower/pseuds/dandelionpower, https://archiveofourown.org/users/mosslover/pseuds/mosslover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ragnarok is when everyone dies: gods and mortals. But what about the vessels? And the other supernaturals? Anders and Mitchell knew the end of the world was coming, but neither of them was prepared for the fact that they might survive it - and with what consequences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Somehow, Anders always thought Ragnarok would be an earthquake. Maybe it was his Kiwi references talking, or maybe the stories Olaf was constantly repeating about the last Odin who had failed in his task and perished in an earthquake with all his family. Maybe he had seen too many movies involving giant thunderstorms, tornadoes, hurricanes etc. It could also be his judgment being clouded by this nonsense Axl kept on rambling about: the giant serpent causing global warming.

They all have seen it coming, though. At least, as soon as they had learnt about Hannah’s death. The Johnsons thought they would have a bit of time to figure out a solution before Ragnarok hit them: but they were trapped. There was no way out. Without Frigg - the cataclysm was inevitable.

All Anders could say was that he didn’t expect what actually happened when the world ended.

The weather was superb outside his office’s window. A clear blue sky. No menacing clouds or tsunami wave in view. Only an explosion. A powerful, gigantic explosion that seemed to take its source in the center of Auckland (though it was hard to tell) and destroyed everything on its passage: except that said explosion didn’t make any sound. JPR office’ building was completely wrecked without it making a single cracking noise.

Anders’ last thought before he lost consciousness was for his boyfriend.

Why did he came to the office today: like an old captain refusing to leave his sinking ship, instead of staying in bed with Mitchell? Out of a kind of collective denial, the god of poetry, his brothers and his boyfriend continued to act normally: still going to work and Olaf on his surfing trips: like death wasn’t going their way like a crazy train. Mitchell had done his shift at the hospital last night as usual, came home around 2AM, wrapped his arms around Anders and placed a kiss to the back of his neck before falling asleep. For his part, Anders had woken up early, pressed a kiss on the vampire’s black eyebrow and left the apartment to go to the office as Mitchell was still sleeping. He knew that it was maybe the last time he would see his lover: but a part of himself had refused to acknowledge it and had prompted him to act like this day was just like the others. He was mistaken, and as the explosion projected him out of his chair and to the wall, he regretted he had not stayed in Mitchell’s arms that morning.

Waking up was confusion and dull pain, but waking up there was, and that in itself seemed unexpected. For a moment after coming to himself, Anders lay motionless, testing his senses against his surroundings as the realization of what had happened seeped back into a dazed brain.

_Ragnarok._

He opened his eyes, blinking slowly a few times to focus through eyelashes sprinkled with dust.  
Did the apocalypse finally decide to descend on Auckland, spreading from there on to other parts of the country and the world? The giant, soundless energy wave that had swept through the city could have been nothing else, yet there was a slight glitch to it all: how was he still alive? Because unless his rattled nervous system was sending him the wrong images, this was not Asgard nor any other kind of afterlife, nor was it complete nothingness of death, if you could wake up to such a thing. These were the ruins of his office, of the whole building where J:PR had resided: the familiar surroundings of his typical work day fiercely rearranged in ways that made little sense.

His body felt bruised and achy from being thrown, but no urgent signals came from any part of it to warn him of acute injury. He must have been extremely lucky that as the building disintegrated around him, he had not been crushed; in fact, where he lay, there appeared to be a clean break between him and the collapsed roof on both sides. He took note of the strangeness of this as he started to rise – did the roof somehow miraculously avoid falling on him, was this coincidence – when sharp pain invaded those thoughts and he cursed as he spotted the shard of glass on which he’d managed to slice his palm open.

Blood welled in the wound, then started slowly trickling down and onto his dress pants. Anders hated blood, and those were expensive pants… Luckily Mitchell had plenty of experience with getting blood out of clothes, due to his former active career as a vampire-  
Anders’ train of thoughts screeched to a halt.

_Mitchell._

If Anders himself had survived, there existed the smallest, most obscure piece of hope that Mitchell had perhaps made it through the apocalypse as well. Even now, he might be in a much worse predicament than Anders had found himself in – he might be stuck under the remains of the apartment block, injured, yet as long as he might be alive…

Clutching the bleeding palm to his chest, Anders scrambled over bricks and glass and torn metal, his mind focused only on his boyfriend as he tried to make sense of the unrecognizable streets. The air over Auckland was warm and the city was eerily silent under the benevolent blue sky.

It was a good thing Anders’ flat was on the same street as his business office. He could be home in less than five minutes.

The first shock passed; as he jogged between the rubble of the buildings strewn everywhere on Vernon street, the blond man was making a mental list of all the people he knew. Were they still alive? His mobile phone in his pocket had been broken into pieces from the violence of the impact when his body was projected across the room. He had no way to call Mitchell or any of his brothers: and even if he still had his phone: chances were that the communication towers were too damaged to relay a signal. Is Dawn alright? Anders wondered as he strode over a filing cabinet overthrown in the middle of the street: it’s content, probably confidential, scattered all over the burning asphalt. Two times Anders looked at his arms, legs and fingers. All the limbs were all still there at at their right place, but he had this lingering feeling that something was amiss.

The street was so empty and silent. The creepiness of it sent a shiver down his spine. Where were all the other people? There got to be other survivors. Being the last living being on earth was not an appealing idea at all. There should also be bodies in the street…. and he hadn’t seen any so far.

He spotted a sundress abandoned on the sidewalk like its owner had just jumped out of it and ran away. The fabric was giving off a weird, white steam. A few meters from there, he saw a pair of trousers and a shirt surrounded by the same strange phenomenon.

_Ragnarok is when everyone dies: gods and mortals._

Anders’ brain wasn’t able to comprehend this idea - that humanity could have just vanished like that: in a puff of smoke. And if it did: how or why had Anders pulled through it with barely a scratch?

He finally made his way to his apartment building. There was not much left of the first floor. Strangely enough, the second level, where his flat was, was almost intact, but it had completely crushed the first level under its weight. Pushed by a rush of adrenaline, Anders managed to climb on what was formerly his balcony. The glass door was usually locked from the inside, but the explosion had taken care of removing this obstacle.

“Mitchell!!!” he shouted as soon as he stepped inside the apartment. Feeling his heart drumming like it wanted to break his ribcage.

The broken furniture was upside down and a part of the roof over the kitchen was missing: letting the sunlight in. The fish tank had exploded and there was water everywhere, soaking the carpet. It was too late for his fish and as much as Anders loved them: he had other priorities: something else he loved even more. “Mitchell !!!!” he yelled again, since he hadn’t gotten any response to his first call.

He kicked and fought his way to the bedroom. The bed had been thrown to the other side of the room. As Anders approached, he noticed something underneath: an arm with an opened hand - a very familiar forearm dusted with dark hair. His throat constricted with sheer panic. “OH SHIT !!! Mitchell!!!! ” he wailed, using all his strength to lift the bed and overturn it.

His lover was lying there, unconscious. Anders fell to his knees and started tapping Mitchell’s face to wake him up. The brunet’s skin was warm: it was a good sign. If anything, it was even warmer than usual. And when Anders leant down, he noticed that his boyfriend was breathing. A few seconds later, the hazel eyes fluttered open and Anders sighed with relief. “Good lord, you made me so afraid,” the blond man said, his vision getting blurry with unshed tears for a second.

“I’m … I’m sorry…” Mitchell muttered, obviously lost, “It happened so quickly I didn’t have time to call the emergencies. Thank you, it was nice from you to help me and get me out of there.”

Anders frowned. Something didn’t sound right in what Mitchell had just told him. “Of course I would have helped you, you big idiot! What did you think: that I would have abandoned you here?“ The blond man helped Mitchell sit up and rubbed his back soothingly.

The brunet looked even more confused as he stared at Anders like he was a complete stranger. “Sorry but…. do I know you?”

“Of course you know me,” Anders blurted, the initial relief replaced by a slight tinge of worry as he wondered for a second if Mitchell had hit his head while being tossed around. It was in fact very likely, considering where Anders had discovered him. Mitchell did seem a little confused, but if he had suffered a concussion when the wave hit, there was no hospital to take him to.

Anders was no expert in the medical field, he usually avoided anything that had to do with it like the plague, but he ventured: “Did you hurt your head? Can you see me clearly, or is your vision blurry? Talk to me.”

Mitchell rubbed his temple but shook his head. “My head feels fine… I feel fine, really, I just hit my side pretty bad, but… This was a vicious one, wasn’t it?” He glanced up at Anders, looking worried and a bit lost. The blond kiwi’s heart clenched at the sight of him, a troubled feeling creeping in.

“A vicious what?” he asked.

Now Mitchell eyed him like he was a bit slow. “The earthquake? I mean, I knew New Zealand was prone to them when I moved here, but this one seemed really bad. I thought for sure the roof will fall through on me.”

“That wasn’t an earthquake, you dummy,” Anders groaned, but not unkindly. “It was the Ragnarok, and we somehow survived it, although why or how, I don’t know…”

“Ragn-a-what?” Mitchell narrowed his eyes at him, letting the dummy slide in face of more serious questions. “Is that a New Zealand word for a really damaging quake?”

Anders stared at him, and Mitchell looked slightly apologetic at his apparent lack of local knowledge. Before Anders could organize his thoughts – what the fuck is going on with my boyfriend being the prominent one – Mitchell’s eyes fell on his bloodied hand. “You’re hurt!” he exclaimed. “Your hand’s bleeding…” He trailed off with trepidation, a slight frown curving his eyebrows inward.

“’sjust a cut,” Anders waved it in dismissal, “we have more serious problems now. If you and I made it, maybe-“

“Oh come on, let me look,” Mitchell said in a determined tone, although when he reached for Anders’ hand, he seemed a little apprehensive. “I work at the hospital, blood doesn’t bother me…” His frown intensified somewhat when he opened Anders’ palm and scanned the wound, and no sound but a dry click of a swallow came from him. Then he seemed to shake himself. “I’ll find something to bind this, although…” He scanned his surroundings until his eyes fell on a pile shirts that had spilled from a dresser toppled over on its side. He grabbed the first one – a pink one – and tore the thin material into stripes. “It’s not ideal, but it will do for now, until you can see a doctor to have it sewn.” The brunet set to work wrapping the fabric around Anders’ hand. “I don’t think you’ve mentioned your name?” he said then, looking up at Anders from under his eyebrows.

“Jesus, Mitchell… are you for real?” Anders finally snapped, unable to help himself. “If this is a joke, it’s a stupid time for it.”

“What? Why would I joke?” Mitchell stopped mid-motion, raising one eyebrow and giving the blond man a questioning look. Anders had always admired how Mitchell could say many things just by moving those two perfect arcs above his eyes, but it was far from cute now.

“Wait a second. How do you know my name?” Mitchell added, surprised.

“Because I’m your boyfriend, and I Iive here with you,” Anders said with growing frustration entering into his voice.

Mitchell looked politely horrified, and that wasn’t cute either. “My boyfriend? I think I’d know about that,” he stated, frowning harder than ever.

Dumbfounded, Anders studied his lover’s face once more, to detect a trace of sarcasm, joke or lie, but not finding any, he had to truly admit that Mitchell had erased him from his memory bank. How was it possible? He had to try one more thing. Usually, his powers didn’t work on supernaturals like vampires, but if there was even a tiny chance it could work, he had to take it.

Anders concentrated and reached for Bragi inside him, like everytime he needed his powers of persuasion, but he was stunned to find himself… empty. There was no better way to describe it. It felt like when you were sure the person you wanted to speak to was in the next room, and you even began your sentence as you walked to this other room, and when you suddenly realized said person was not where you thought they would be, you stopped in your tracks. And right now, Anders had stopped dead in his mental tracks because Bragi was not there anymore.

Too shocked to give up just now, he tried to summon his powers again, looking Mitchell in the eyes and speaking slowly, like to a small child: “I’m Anders, Anders Johnson… and you know me….” But it was Anders’ voice that spoke: not Bragi. The god of poetry had left the building.

“Yes! Anders Johnson!” Mitchell beamed as he finished bandaging Anders’ hand. “That name rings a bell! You’re the guy who was renting my flat before I moved in, right?”

Anders repressed a sigh. Yes, he was indeed renting the flat before Mitchell arrived, but the tiny part that the taller man’s mind had skipped was that he had moved in precisely to live with Anders.

The blond man resigned himself to play this heartbreaking game. He didn’t want to perturb Mitchell and scare him. It would probably happen if Anders started to talk about a common life of which the brunet had no recognition. Better make sure they stayed together. He didn’t want to lose his boyfriend/ex-boyfriend in the devastated post-apocalyptic Auckland.

“And you are Dawn’s boss, If I remember well.” Mitchell added as he stood up and dusted his black jeans.

A spark of hope lighted up in Anders’ eyes. “Yes, yes I am. You remember - er… I mean: you know her?”

“Yes! We are.. friends,” Mitchell hesitated, frowning, like he had a hard time fighting the tricks his mind was playing on him. “But it’s been months I haven’t seen her.”

 _Months? We had a supper at Ty’s one week ago and she was there!_ Anders thought. For a moment he wondered if he wasn’t actually the one losing his mind. Maybe his one year of relationship with the vampire was an invention of his own brain and caused by the explosion. No. It couldn’t be. He had to maintain a grip on reality and analyse the situation with cold blood.

Gods and mortals were supposed to die from Ragnarok. Bragi had left him. The god of poetry was dead, most likely, since it was all the gods’ fate. And Anders was a vessel: not really the god himself, but not completely a human either. His hybrid status had probably saved his life, sparing him from the explosion.

As a vampire: Mitchell was not a mortal either, which explained why he was still alive.

It also meant that Anders’ brothers were still breathing, somewhere. But Dawn … she was human. Anders couldn’t even imagine a world without his assistant: it was like losing all his bearings.

“We have to find Dawn,” Anders told Mitchell, looking at him from underneath and hanging on to this possibility like to a lifeline. Since the brunet still had some memories of her, it could give him an excuse to keep him by his side.

“Yes, I think that’d be a good idea, maybe she needs help,” Mitchell agreed, reaching a hand to help Anders up. “And maybe, when this whole mess is over, we could discuss this ‘boyfriend’ thing over a beer,” he added with a teasing smile hidden behind a serious expression. Anders knew this face too well. _Is he flirting with me?_ the blond wondered. The taller man’s smile widened when he saw Anders’ slight bush. _“Oh yes, he is definitely flirting right now.”_

It should have been good news. At least, it proved Mitchell was still attracted to him, but at the same time, it broke his heart. All they had lived together: it was like it never happened at all. They were back to the start.

They made their way out of the destroyed building and Anders had to consciously fight the reflex that pushed him to put his hand to the small of the brunet’s back as they crossed the broken glass door.

The amount of rubble in the streets was overwhelming. Anders could tell that Mitchell's apprehension and astonishment grew exponentially with every careful step they took over broken concrete slabs, shattered glass, and objects from ordinary people's lives. Anders tried to avoid looking, but the street was so filled with debris, it was impossible. His eyes kept encountering stark reminders of the people who used to be his neighbors - not that he knew them that well. Now, though, there was a torn book, a broken plate, a squashed toy truck with only two tires, and the sight of it made Anders' stomach twist painfully.

Their former apartment was one of the few lucky buildings to remain at least partially intact, and as realization of the fact grew in the brunet's eyes, his face took on a horrified expression. He paused in his tracks, his mouth falling open, at first mutely as he struggled to comprehend.

"Jesus, the whole neighborhood-" he breathed, and the look he gave Anders was so raw that it was all Anders could do to stop himself from comforting him in a very boyfriend-like way. Instead, he nodded, stepping around the torso of a bathtub, feeling at once detached and overwhelmed. "The whole city, Mitchell," he said. At the thought, a sadness as vast as Mount Cook filled him at the idea of Auckland, the backdrop of his independent adult life, reduced to this.

He shook himself. This kind of thinking would not take them far, and if there was any chance they could help Ty and Dawn, they had to get moving; without a car the three mile distance to their house would take them an hour at the very least. He looked up at Mitchell and took the vampire by his upper arm. "Come on. Let's try and make it to Dawn's, we can't help anyone here anyway."

Shaken to the core, Mitchell let himself be lead forward. "So no one- no one survived? I wondered - there were no rescue vehicles, not that they could get here - but then, how come -" His mind went into overdrive, his voice rising. "Then how come we are still alive? I mean, it's not like we were any different-"

Anders gave a tiny, ironic smile. He turned to the other man as they cleared the end of the block and started down the street on the right which looked just as hopeless as theirs. Mitchell seemed deep in thought, shock still clearly etched in his features, but there was something else, too, a realization.

"God, I-" Mitchell stuck his hands in his hair, slowing down and then catching up with Anders again in two long strides. “I guess I was -” another pause, a longer one this time, as if Mitchell was considering what to say. “I was really lucky…”

“Yeah.” Anders looked down, thinking of how awfully selfish of him it was that all he could think about at this moment was the fact that his boyfriend didn’t remember him. Had the brunet just been thinking about how very different from mortal people he was, how his immortality and bloodthirst set him apart? Anders was tempted to blurt out aloud that he knew of Mitchell’s “condition”, that there was no need to keep it secret or skirt around it, but as they picked their way around a smashed suv blocking the middle of the street, he decided that Mitchell was probably freaked out enough, and kept his mouth shut. Besides, Mitchell still thought this had been an enormously catastrophic earthquake; all knowledge of the apocalypse having been erased from his mind. In his shock, he had not yet processed the obvious lack of bodies.

Vernon street turned out to be a dead end.The rubble of a tall building was blocking it and it was not possible to go around it or to cross it without putting themselves in danger of being crushed under the fragile structure of the other buildings still standing around and threatening to fall any second.

“Watch out!” Mitchell yelled, pulling the blond man by the sleeve of his grey suit jacket when the balcony of an apartment fell and crashed into the street in a cloud of dust.

They tried to follow another street, but a big truck had overturned there, a suspicious liquid pouring out of it and onto the causeway, which made them decide against it.

“The city is a real labyrinth now. It would be a miracle if we got to my brother’s house within a week,” Anders pondered out loud.

“You brother?” Mitchell asked. “I thought we were searching for Dawn.”

Anders cursed himself for this mistake, but he chose to reply honestly, just in case it could miraculously make his boyfriend get at least some bits of memory back . “Dawn and my brother Ty: they are a couple. They live together.”

“Really? How come I never met him?”

“Er… you know… he trains all the time, it keeps him really busy. He’s one of those fit people.”

“Oh, I see.”

As they resumed their search for an exit out of the neighborhood, Anders threw the taller man a desolated look when he knew the brunet was not looking. Ty would be sad to know Mitchell had forgotten about him as well: the two of them had been close friends. Anders suddenly realized he was thinking of Mitchell using the past tense: but he was not dead- it’s only their relationship that was.

They finally found a parking garage that didn’t seem to have suffered from the explosion and took the risk of crossing it to reach the street at the other side. But of course: all good labyrinths had its minotaurs.

“Oh hullo Mitchy! I’d like to say that I’m happy to see you alive: but I’m not,” said a spiteful voice in the shadows. Immediately, as the man showed himself, Anders recognized one of the vampires of the sector who detested Mitchell since the second he had set foot in Auckland.

“Hello, Walker: always your charming self I can see,” Anders grunted. A lot of the good humans had died in the Ragnarok, and the explosion had still spared that waste of space Anders and Mitchell used to call “Wanker” behind his back.

Said Walker threw a puzzled look at the blond man and Anders realized that the vampire must have forgotten about him as well: which wasn’t much of a loss.

“You know that dumbass?” Mitchell frowned with surprise.

“Yeah…sadly...”

“What are you doing here, Walker?” the brunet growled, knowing that, as usual, the sinister individual was probably up to no good. Mitchell stepped aside to put himself between the other vampire and Anders. “Be careful, this man is more dangerous than you think,” Mitchell warned him in a low voice.

“I see that the apocalypse didn’t fix the fact you’re a disgusting fag,” Walker sneered. “And you found yourself a new pet: that’s touching.”

“A pet?” Mitchell thundered and Anders wondered if his companion was angry about having been called a fag, because of the insinuation that he was having sex with him, or because of the fact Walker had insulted him.

They heard feet shuffling closer and two other men joined Walker. Anders had seen them before: other vampires from Auckland.

“Nevermind, Johnnyboy,” Walker chuckled with a vicious smile, making his joints crack. “Anyway, your little alpha male vampire show is over: now we’re all the same and you’re outnumbered. I’m gonna kick your arse once for all.” .

“Vampire.. pffft, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mitchell tried to play it cool, throwing a back-glance to Anders above his shoulder, stepping back slowly and urging the blond to do the same.

Mitchell let out a low hiss as the men were walking toward them. Usually, he was making this sound just before his eyes turned black and his fangs descended. But this time, something seemed to go wrong. “What the fuck,” Anders heard the brunet whisper. His theory was confirmed: Mitchell wasn’t able to vamp out. He wasn’t a vampire anymore: and now they were in trouble.


	2. Chapter 2

Two against three might not look like such an uneven field, but Anders had never been much of a fighter, and he avoided violence whenever and however he could. When he was growing up, having three brothers had definitely helped; the Johnson boys didn’t always get along, but it was common knowledge in Norsewood that when necessary, they stuck up for one another. And later, Bragi came into Anders’ life, making it easy to avoid any sort of confrontations that he wished to stay out of. Which were pretty much all of them.

 

As a result, though, his experience in self-defense was pretty limited, not to mention his ability to take someone out in a fight. If it came to that, he would probably not be much use to Mitchell. But he would not back out and leave Mitchell to defend himself against three opponents.

 

Keeping his eyes on the approaching men, Anders set his jaw in determination. As Mitchell extended his arm out to keep Anders behind his back, the shorter man could sense Mitchell’s growing frustration and panic at not being able to channel the vampire within. “Bloody hell,“ he heard Mitchell mutter under his breath, and he could hear the scowl in Mitchell’s voice as the brunet tried in vain, again and again, just like Anders with Bragi not too long ago.

 

But the vampire failed to manifest, and the only real result was an awful chuckle from Walker.

“Tsk, tsk, Johnny… have you been too busy with your little blondie to notice that we’re not vampires anymore?” Walker’s pleased voice asked in a mocking tone, and from behind Mitchell, Anders could see all three former vampires closing in. He looked around wildly for something that might help as Mitchell snarled back: “What do you mean, we’re not vampires anymore?”

Over Mitchell’s shoulder, Anders could see Walker and his two shadows grin. “I mean we’re back to plain, boring mortals after this fun ride of a destructive wave.”

 

“That’s insane, Walker. How could an earthquake cause something like that?!?” Mitchell growled, frustrated.

Walker snickered. “You think that was an earthquake? You’re really a bit slow today, slower than usual, if you think this was just an earthquake… Anyway, this new situation makes it easier to finally get rid of you…”

Mitchell’s hands closed into fists and a part of his face appeared from around dark curls as he turned his head slightly to speak to Anders in a low voice. “The fuck is he talking about - do you know what happened?” He paused, but they both knew now was hardly a good time for a discussion. Mitchell added out of the corner of his mouth: “You any good in a fight? I’m alright, but three might be tricky. Which one can you take care of?”

 

The honest answer was ‘none of them’, but Anders was not about to tell that to Mitchell; it would not inspire much confidence. Also, he felt kind of ashamed of his obvious lack of street-fighting skills. He was just thinking about informing Mitchell that he can try and keep the tall and gangly one in check - Anders didn't know the guy's name but he seemed a better option than tall and burly - when any sort of planning became irrelevant: Walker suddenly leaped and slammed shoulder first into Anders' boyfriend.

Anders barely had time to jump sideways as the two men flew backwards toward him. Mitchell landed on the debris-littered ground with a grunt of pain, his head narrowly missing a concrete block that had fallen off from the top level of the parking garage. Still, he was slightly dazed from impact, and his eyes widened further when Walker used the brunet’s momentary hesitation to rise to his knees on top of Mitchell and grab his hair, twisting it in his fist. "I don't like when foreign vampires come into my city and think they can order me around," he snarled from up close into Mitchell's face, his knees digging into Mitchell's arms. Before Mitchell could find any sort of leverage to throw Walker off, the back of his head was slammed against the ground again.

Mitchell's yell of pain seemed to shake Anders from his own state of shock. Mitchell was pinned to the ground, and with Walker holding the advantage, he wasn't likely to turn things around without help. Anders had two choices: try and throw Walker off, or find some kind of a weapon, something that might convince the three thugs that a fight might not be to their best benefit.

He took a few tentative steps back, looking around and throwing a careful glance at Walker's two sidekicks. They were more focused on the fight on the ground than on him, but when Anders moved off a little further, out and towards a pile of rubble from a what looked like a - a gym? - Walker hissed, "why don't you two stop standing there uselessly and take care of our blond friend here? Maybe rearrange his smug face a bit..."

Anders threw them a quick look. They didn't seem like the smartest cookies in the batch, but they were both taller than him and could overpower him in mere seconds. His only chance was to bolt - now.

He scrambled sideways until he reached the ruins of the gym. Glass shards from the floor-to-ceiling front windows crunched under his fancy shoes - for some reason he had a split-second flashback to the early morning when he was putting them on in the quiet dimness of his bedroom, Mitchell sleeping under covers - and it was like an image from a different life. He scanned the ground for something, anything, that he could use for self-defense, listening for sounds of approach behind him. The footsteps were getting closer, and there was another painful sound from Mitchell, but also from Walker now, so maybe Mitchell had been able to score a punch or something. He climbed a pile of shattered sheetrock parts, hoping his eyes would fall on something useful, chanting come on, dammit under his breath until he noticed that a few feet to the side, a bunch of round weight plates were scattered, the kind that you put on whatever you lifted weights with. Ty would know what all those things were called.

Anders made his way over to them and grabbed one. It was quite heavy, digging into his injured palm painfully, so he dropped it and went for a smaller one; then turned just in time to see tall and gangly closing in on him. Anders hurled the weight at him as though it was a frisbee.

He missed, but it gave his pursuer pause, and that in turn gave Anders enough time to grab another weight of the same size and throw it. This time, he caught tall and gangly in the stomach and the man doubled over, breath shocked out of him.

Anders was already armed again, now with a metal bar that was probably used to put the weights on. It felt solid and heavy and warm in his hands as he held it out against the second man. Tall and burly didn't look like he wanted to play, though, seeing that Anders held five feet of steel in his hands; admittedly, he didn't know that Anders wasn't really sure what he'd actually do with it. But that was beside the point.

"Take you friend here and get lost," Anders threatened, taking a step closer to the both of them, the steel bar grasped firmly in both hands. He was breathing hard, adrenaline pumping through him, but he tried to keep fear out of his voice as best he could. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Mitchell and Wanker were both back on their feet again, engaged in a dirty, full-body struggle. Presently, Mitchell seemed to be giving harder than he was getting, but only just.

Tall and burly hesitated again, then grabbed his gasping friend and pulled him backwards and away from the fight. Anders advanced with them until he was sure they were far enough away and it was safe to turn his attention back to the two fiercely engaged men.

Mitchell looked battered - his nose was bleeding and a black eye was starting to form under his right eyebrow; sweat poured down his face and he seemed out of breath. Walker was not to be underestimated, they both knew that; he was always a right bastard and a strong one, too, feeding on as many people as he could get away with. Both he and Mitchell were convinced that Walker was behind the most recent trend in Auckland - about once a week, a young woman or man found dead after what looked like a single car crash into a building or a light pole at high speed - it appeared quite like an accident and much less like a sinister murder that way. Walker had always had a liking for young and pretty victims, and after the second and third occurrence, Mitchell had his suspicions despite the media throwing around ideas about new date drugs or reckless youth.

So Walker had been well fed while Mitchell's strength had not been at its fullest, since he was trying to stay off of blood. Mitchell had never before given a damn about this power difference when he'd confronted Walker about his flippant acts of violence against Auckland's citizens; he was not easily intimidated by Walker's well fed state and besides, most New Zealand vampires preferred to keep a low profile and their blood coming from safe sources. Mitchell's views fit in with most of them, whereas Walker had been the rogue, attracting to him the most violent types and wreaking havoc where he felt like it.

Now it seemed, to Walker's sick delight, that the power difference between them had been carried over from their vampire bodies to their human ones, and although Mitchell was not backing off, he looked like he might not be able to handle much more. His foot slipped when he attempted to evade Walker's next blow, and the bastard used the moment to slam Mitchell into the still standing wall of the parking garage and squeeze Mitchell's throat.

A surge of panic rose up in Anders and he screamed, "Let him go, you stupid fucker!"

"Oh, you going to swing your stick at me? I'm not scared of you, even if those two useless shits are. You look weak, and I bet you're scared..." Walker sneered, holding Mitchell pinned despite the brunet's frantic attempts to free himself.

"You've killed enough people in my city, bastard," Anders growled. He grasped the steel bar tighter, suppressing a wince as pain flared up again from the cut as he glanced at Mitchell. His boyfriend's face was turning a deep shade of red. Anders grit his teeth. "Mitchell warned you many times to stop killing people or get out of Auckland.You should have listened."

"Like I would listen to this pitiful excuse for a vampire," Walker sneered. "Look how powerless he is now, can't do anything to stop me...."

"Let him go," Anders warned him again in a low growl, but Walker just threw a sideways grin at him - and that was the last straw for Anders. Raw anger pushed him forward, and before he could really think about what he was doing, he brought the end of the metal bar up against the side of Walker's head. It collided with a sickening crunch and Anders flinched and dropped his weapon, then reached down for it just in case. But there was no need. Blood poured out of the wound on Walker's temple and he slumped sideways in a lifeless heap.

Mitchell, released from the choking grip, fell to his knees, gasping loudly.

Knowing that Walker would not attack them again any time soon (if he was even alive), Anders’ first reflex was to rush to his boyfriend and check on him. He crouched down in front of the coughing man: “Bab.. Mitchell!! Are you okay!?” he worried, reaching to touch Mitchell’s bruised lip.

The brown eyes were blood injected and before Anders could touch his face, Mitchell grasped his wrist in a strong, painful grip, making the blond flinch. “Who the fuck are you!?” Mitchell growled.

The blond stayed stunned. Was it possible that his lover had forgot about him all over again? Maybe Walker had caused some real brain injury to the taller man, beating him up like that, Anders panicked. “I’m Anders,” he stammered, unsure, trying to escape from Mitchell’s vice-like grip. “Did you already forgot that we came here and-”

“How do you know all those things about me!?” Mitchell cut him off in a dry growl. “Dawn can’t have told you since as far as I know: she doesn’t know anything about vampires. Have you been spying on me!? For how long!?”

Anders shook his head frantically: too terrified to speak. He had forgot how scary an angry, Mitchell could be. Until now: he never was the target of his aggressiveness. Mitchell would have never hurt the man he loved, but Anders wasn’t that man anymore. He always was the one Mitchell was trying to protect. Now he was only a stranger and possibly a dangerous one.

“ _You know me! I’m your partner. We slept together: countless times!!_ ” he wanted to scream at Mitchell’s unfeeling face, hopeless tears gathering in his eyes. But he didn’t scream, or spoke, because after all, Mitchell was just like a victim waking up from a rape-drug induced coma. Anders had never forced himself on his lover or never did anything to him the brunet didn’t fully consented to : but Mitchell didn’t remember anything of it. In a twisted way: it was like Mitchell had never given him his consent at all. If Anders told him how physically intimate they once were together: the brunet would have every right to freak out. This realization made Anders feel sick.

“You brought me here!” Mitchell roared, shaking him like a puppet on its strings. “You pushed me into a trap!!”

Anders suddenly found his voice again to protest in a squeak: ”I did not! Do you think I would have hit him with a metal bar and save your life if he was my accomplice!?”

Mitchell’s furious gaze left Anders’ face a split second to look at the still unconscious if not dead former vampire. “What tells me it’s not a trick?”

“You’re going to have to trust me on that,” Anders stated, struggling to escape Mitchell. “I’m under the impression that this city is far more dangerous now. We aren’t going to make it alone. We should not separate.”

“I better be alone than with someone who can betray me any minute,” Mitchell hissed, taking a look around in the garage parking like he was expecting to see enemies appear from the shadows.

“Look at me, Mitchell,” Anders demanded.

Hazel eyes met his. He didn’t wanted to use his powers: anyway he had understood by now that Bragi was gone for good. He just wanted to keep the other man grounded. “I’m not going to betray you: I swear on my family’s lives.” He had no choice but to keep Mitchell with him until he could find a solution to his amnesia. Maybe now that Mitchell didn’t remembered about him, he could even be dangerous for Anders, but even if his reason was warning him, the blond knew he was not ready to give up on his boyfriend. Not now. Not in a long time. Not until he was absolutely sure there was no hope.

The taller man was still staring at him with a deep frown.

“Please… you have to trust me,” Anders begged, and slowly, Mitchell loosened his grip and finally let go of Anders who stood up, massaging his aching wrist.

Mitchell stood up as well, straightening his leather coat.

“Come on,” Anders urged him, walking toward the flashing exit sign, “we still have to find Dawn.” After a few steps, he realized that the other man was not following him. He stopped and turn around, giving Mitchell a puzzled look.

“I’m not moving from here until you tell me the truth,” Mitchell decided. “I agreed to trust you, but I still need answers.”

The smaller man sighed, he walked back to Mitchell slowly, scratching his chin and trying to buy time to think. What could he tell his lover without making him run away or kill him on the spot?

“How exactly did you know about vampires and about the fact I was trying to stop Walker from killing blindly in Auckland?” Mitchell questioned. “Think about your answer carefully and you better not lie to me,” he warned him. “Were you a vampire too? Is it why you didn’t die in the cataclysm?”

“No, not a vampire,” Anders replied carefully.

“A werewolf?”

“Something else.”

“Quit beating around the bush! I have no patience for guessing games. I said I wanted the truth!” Mitchell insisted, menacing, taking a step toward Anders.

“I know!” Anders hastened to say, lifting his hands to stop the other man’ approach. “I am- I mean I was a god: Bragi- the norse god of poetry.”

Mitchell’s eyes narrowed as he scrutinized the blond’s face. “A god…” he repeated slowly, “never met one before: but I believe you. There is a truck load of crazy shit in this world.”

The blond relaxed slightly. Mitchell had had about the same reaction the first time Anders confessed being Bragi - except that he was pretty sure this time it would not end up with awesome sex because Mitchell would want to know “what it feels like to worship a norse god.”

“But this doesn’t explain how you knew about vampires’ business,” the taller man continued, “we don’t go around telling people what happens in our world.”

Anders sighed. There was apparently no safe way out of this. “I know all of this because you told me yourself.”

“No.”

“Yes, you did. You and I used to be very close. You just don’t remember it.”

Mitchell started to be agitated again. “I remember everything from my bloody childhood in Ireland. I remember the hat my mother was wearing to go to church on sundays, it was caramel brown with fluffy feathers, and that was a fucking century ago! My memory doesn’t have any problems, thank you very much!”

“What happened this morning- the explosion, it ripped the vampire out of you, but it also erased an important part of your life from your memory. That’s why you can’t remember our… connection, ” Anders explained in a voice that he hoped would calm the dark-haired man.

“Why are you trying to mess with my head!?” Mitchell bellowed, his hands fisting into balls. “I don’t find it funny at all just so you know!”

Feeling bolder than usual, the blond stepped forward and put a gentle hand on the taller man’s shoulder: in a gesture that was meant to be comforting without being too intimate, even if Anders would sell a kidney to be able to hold his boyfriend against him or kiss his trembling lips. But now, even with just a hand on Mitchell’s shoulder, it felt awkward. Like his hand didn’t belong there anymore.

Anders looked into dark, doubtful eyes. “John…. I know that somewhere, deep inside you, you know that even if what I’m saying might seems crazy, it strangely makes sense. Something tells you that I’m not lying, even if your head can’t put the puzzle pieces together. Your eyes say that you never saw me before, your heart wants to protest. You can feel it, right?”

Something seemed to change in Mitchell’s gaze and tension left his body at once. “You really believe what you’re telling me,” he realized. “So, when you said earlier that we were boyfriends before… you weren’t kidding?”

“I wasn’t,” Anders breathed, hopeful. The lips he knew soft and delicious were parted and tempting. He would only have to lift his chin a little to kiss and enjoy them. But Mitchell’s breath accelerated as his rationality took control of him once again.

“NO! It can’t be possible! I would remember!” Mitchell despaired, stepping away from the blond: afraid of Anders and scared of himself.“That’s bullshit, mate! You and I never even met before!!!”

“Listen. I know people who could answer your questions and explain better than I can,” Anders offered, playing his last card. “Dawn and my brother Ty could help you… but we have to find them first. You have to help me, Mitchell,” he pleaded.

Mitchell eyed him warily. His chest rose and fell fast and a muscle worked in his tense jaw as he clearly weighed every word Anders had spoken.

Anders suddenly felt tired from being under such scrutiny from a man who had been the closest person to him for a whole year, and perhaps the closest Anders had ever been with anyone in his whole life. His eyes welled with hot tears, but he blinked them away furiously, not wanting Mitchell to catch sight of them.

Mitchell did see, though, and his expression became a tad more uncertain again as he continued to study Anders. He shook his head in exasperation, then winced when his freshly acquired injuries announced themselves; he raised his hand to feel the back of his head, hissing at the contact. His fingers came back free of blood though, and that was hopefully a good sign.

Their gaze met again, and Anders held still, even though inside him, everything was roiling with fear and worry. He couldn’t lose Mitchell, not like this; that would be a stupid twist of an already twisted fate indeed. He was about to open his mouth, not even sure of what he was going to say, when Mitchell groaned as he leaned against the pillar he had been previously pushed up against in Walker’s deadly grip. “Oh fuck, I don’t know what to believe anymore. My brain insists I don’t know you, but…” He trailed off, staring far into the distance, even past the sunlit ruins of Auckland it seemed, as if he was searching for something far away or deep inside. After a short while, his gaze returned to the present time and space, resolution gaining upper hand in his expression.  
“If there’s a way to figure if I could have forgotten… anything… if you say your brother and Dawn can help me understand, then let’s go find them.”

Anders thought for a second that he might puke from relief. He took a few shallow breaths to settle his nerves and stomach. “Okay.”

Mitchell peeled himself from the wall, biting his lip as he surveyed Walker’s unmoving body by his feet. He didn’t appear pleased at the sight of the troublesome vampire lying still and quite possibly dead; despite his own violent history, the Mitchell Anders knew and had come to love didn’t derive pleasure from death. And Anders had been so focused on arguing with his boyfriend that he had completely forgotten about Wanker for a while. The thought that he had perhaps killed the bastard threatened to make bile rise up into his mouth again, but considering that Mitchell had ended up bruised and beaten and nearly choked, and in the light of all the innocent people who perished this morning, he couldn’t bring himself to regret his actions.

“I suppose I should thank you for saving my skin,” Mitchell said quietly as he stepped around Walker and came to a stop next to Anders, turning his face to him. His hazel eyes were serious but calmer now that the storm of frustration had settled a little.

Anders almost replied ‘you’d do the same for me’. However, that didn’t apply anymore, not since earlier today. He made do with a mute nod.

“Ready to go? Maybe you should bring that metal stick with you, just in case.” Mitchell gestured towards the long bar, abandoned on the ground. “Might come in handy.”

Anders nodded and picked it up with his good hand. “I guess so. It’s stupidly heavy, though.”

Mitchell rolled his eyes with a hint of a smile. “Oh come on.” He took it from Anders and raised his eyebrows at its considerable weight, but still saw fit to say in a teasing tone: “Gods must not be the strongest species around…”

“That’s rich, coming from a vampire who just got his ass royally kicked,” Anders snorted.

“My ass deserves no less than a royal treatment,” Mitchell replied, the smile getting more pronounced. “Alright, almighty Anders, let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for your comments and kudos on the last chapter. Hope you enjoy the ride. :) There is more to come.  
> dandelion and mosslover


	3. Chapter 3

The sun rose to its midday maximum as they continued with the journey. In silence, they navigated through the havoc, taking a short break after an hour or so by the ruins of a supermarket, where they managed to dig out a bottle of pineapple juice and odd bits of food.  
“Reckon it’s safe?” Mitchell asked before they both took a drink. Anders had wondered that himself, but in truth, he was too thirsty to care at the moment. When they drained the bottle, they searched around the ruins some more until they chanced upon enough food to make an impromptu lunch. At one point, Anders spotted a partially squashed Mars, Mitchell’s favorite candy bar, and he tossed it to the vampire before he realized what he was doing. Mitchell caught it, giving Anders an odd look; then he tucked it in his jeans’ pocket.   
Having nothing to carry extra food in – unless they wanted to rescue and fill a shopping cart and drag it along – they had to abandon the potential food source soon after with only whatever they could stuff in their clothes. With renewed energy, they made decent progress. It was made easier by the fact that the streets in this area were a little wider and the rubble less concentrated.

It wasn’t very long after lunch break that they arrived to the neighborhood park from which just five blocks remained to be covered to Ty’s and Dawn’s house. Only the park didn’t look much like a place of tranquility and recreation anymore, with uprooted trees, a mangled slide and swings torn off the playground equipment, and smashed benches. Anders and Mitchell picked their way around the edge of the green swath of grass where the going was easiest, when suddenly Mitchell’s hand closed around Anders’ arm and the brunet brought them both to a halt. “Is that a person, over there?”

Anders followed the direction of Mitchell’s gaze, trying to make sense of the exposed tree roots and scattered leaves and spot whoever Mitchell had noticed. When his eyes fell on the dark-haired figure of a man dressed in black jogging shorts and a grey sports shirt, sitting on the slender trunk of a fallen palm tree with his head bent over his knees, his heart stopped momentarily and then burst forward in a hopeful gallop. “Shit, that’s Ty!” he exclaimed.

It seemed that he and Mitchell were not the only ones who didn’t stay barricaded in their home even with the knowledge of impending apocalypse; Ty appeared to have gone for his usual morning run when the wave had hit.

“Your brother?” Mitchell asked quietly, letting go of Anders.

“Yeah.” Anders gulped down feelings that tried to overcome him; he was glad to see his younger sibling, but the initial burst of joy immediately faded a little: finding him alone redoubled his concern for Dawn. The fact that Ty was sitting here, hours after the wave had gone through, in an apparent state of shock – or grief - didn’t do much to quell his fears. He took a deep breath and called out to his brother at the top of his lungs, already heading towards him.

When Ty didn’t react, Anders sped up his steps, jumping over a burst trashcan. Behind him, Mitchell hastened to keep up.

Anders called out again, but his brother still appeared deaf to any sound. Scaling a few fallen trees and running over a clear patch of lawn that still separated them, the blond drew level with the bent-over man and crouched down in front of him. “Ty,” he repeated, laying a hand on his knee.

Wide steel-grey eyes rose up and almost met Anders’ blue ones. They took a while to start focusing. 

“Anders?” Ty said hoarsely.

“Yeah, it’s me,” Anders said. “And Mitchell’s here too…” He paused to give his brother time to finish centering on him, then asked, “Ty, where’s Dawn?”

“She’s… she was home… but…” Ty’s voice was barely audible. “And I … I can’t go back there… because - she’s gone, isn’t she? ”

“I… I don’t know, Ty,” Anders stuttered, his heart in the grinder and feeling nearly as miserable as his sibling. 

Mitchell stepped closer and into Ty’s field of sight, like someone who isn’t sure what to say or do- or if he should say or do something at all. Anders’ brother stood up when he saw the former vampire and he just pulled him into a tight hug: much to Mitchell’s astonishment. “She is gone,” Ty cried against the other brunet’s shoulder. “At least you still have Anders… but I have no one…” 

A man he had never met before (or so he thought) was throwing himself at him to cry in his arms. Caught off guard, Mitchell shot a panicked look at Anders, his eyes so full of doubts that it made the blond’s man throat constrict. 

Slowly and tentatively, Mitchell put one arm around Ty’s back and he patted his shoulder with his free hand. “Listen…” he began, hesitating. He peeked at the blond man again for confirmation and Anders mouthed his brother’s name to answer the brunet’s silent question. “Listen Ty… mate… The three of us survived. Maybe she did too. And if it is the case, she will need you. You can’t give up hope just now.” 

“You don’t understand, Mitch… you can’t understand! Your boyfriend was not a mortal, contrary to Dawn!” Ty sobbed, pushing Mitchell away, but without violence. “Anders and you survived, but what are the chances she did, huh!? Look around you- do you see a lot of mortal humans now!?” 

Mitchell didn’t reply, but once again, he searched Anders’ gaze. With Ty speaking so familiarly to him, he seemed to start believing that the blond man wasn’t trying to mess with his head. Because if this whole story was a conspiracy, it was a very elaborate one. 

Anders put his arm around Ty’s shoulders and walked him away from Mitchell. 

“Mitchell doesn’t remember me, and he doesn’t remember you either,” Anders explained gently once they were too far for the former vampire to hear their conversation.

“Really!?” Ty frowned through his tears and knuckled them away. He took a look at the irishman above his brother’s shoulder and had to admit that Mitchell looked completely lost. “Is it because you are not a god anymore? How is it even possible? He is not a mortal- only the mortals forget about us if we stop being gods!” 

“He is a mortal now, just like us,” Anders sighed. “I don’t know how, or why, but the explosion wiped out Count Dracula and left bad boy John behind.” 

Ty looked at his older brother with compassion. After all, he was well-placed to know just exactly how Anders must feel. “He doesn’t remember your relationship? Not a thing?” 

Anders’ gaze dropped and he shook his head silently. “Nothing at all. He even threatened me, thinking I was a spy or something,” he explained, showing Ty his bruised wrist. “I understand he is suspicious. I would be too if I was in his shoes. He is the one who forgot everything, but it’s like it’s me who doesn’t know who he is anymore. The John I know who would have never hurt me, even if he thought he was a monster.” 

Ty ducked his head to the side with a sour expression. “ But you still love him,” and it was not a question. 

Anders rubbed his aching temples with his thumb and middle finger before replying. “I woke up in his arms this morning. It’s not like I can do the same the explosion did and erase all we had together from my own memory.” His eyes followed Mitchell who was now pacing in the park. All Anders wanted right now was to take him by the hand and bring him home. By this hour of the day, they would be seated on the couch, drinking a beer, telling each other about their day at work. They would laugh of Anders’ douchebag clients and roll their eyes over Mitchell’s coworkers’ complicated love stories. They could afford to judge them, because what they had together was not complicated. Anders had Mitchell and Mitchell had Anders - it was as simple as that. They never said this with actual words, but they knew the other would always have their back and give his support. Now they didn’t have a home to go back to - no living room and couches to drink beer and chat …and Anders didn’t have his Mitchell either anymore. 

“You still love him, but you don’t know how to reach for him… too afraid you'll scare him away forever and waste the small chance you have had to get him to see in you the person he once loved,” Ty mused and Anders felt his heart tighten. 

“You know what that means?” Ty went on. “It means that even if by miracle I find my girlfriend alive: she will have forgotten me all over again. What a merry pair we will make- you and I!” he despaired. 

“Come on, Ty. Mitchell is right,” Anders scowled his younger brother. “You can’t give up now. And Dawn is a tough girl, you know. She survived seven years working for me. I’m pretty sure the apocalypse is like a walk in the park compared to enduring me as a boss on a daily basis. Everything is going to be all right,” he said in a sudden outburst of positivity. “Let me grab my amnesic former-vampire and to your house we shall go.” 

Ty nodded, sufficiently distracted from grief now, a flicker of hope lighting up in his eyes. Anders gave him a pat on the shoulder and a small smile that he wasn’t sure reflected in his eyes. He wondered if he wasn’t infusing Ty with false hopes – but they couldn’t sit here in the park and howl in shared misery forever, and besides, he didn’t want to give up the idea that Dawn was alive either, however unrealistic it might be.

Mitchell was still walking too and fro restlessly like a caged tiger, except that there was no cage besides the turmoil in his own head. Anders could just imagine the chaos in his boyfriend’s mind. As he watched, Mitchell kicked a piece of debris out of his way; it tumbled over a few fallen branches while Mitchell growled in frustration. Then, sensing the blond’s approach, turned to face him. “Ty knows me,” he stated with a slight frown that was not quite as fierce as his earlier ones.

“Yes,” Anders said simply. “He does. You two were friends.”

Mitchell huffed, that slightly haunted, thoughtful look still present in his hazel eyes. Then he looked over at where Ty was standing and waiting, and his expression cleared a little as he focused on something outside of the confusion in his head. “So, Dawn: she was not one of you - she was a mortal?”

“Yeah,” Anders said simply. “Nonetheless, we’re going to Ty’s and her place to see what happened. As long as there’s a sliver of hope... Plus, if any of my other family survived, chances are they might be making their way there as well.”

Mitchell gave him a look. “This just keeps getting better.”

“Come on, man,” Anders said with a sigh, sounding tired even to his own ears. “Tune out the storm in your head for a while and let’s go. Ty might need us.”

They set out from the park, making their slow way forward with Ty in the lead. Grim determination etched in his face, the dark haired former god of all things cold walked a few steps ahead, pushing obstacles out of their way like they were made of styrofoam. Only once or twice did Anders and Mitchell have to lend the strength of their muscles – mostly Mitchell, Anders had to admit, but he wasn’t completely useless himself since he now carried the metal bar, their only weapon in case of another surprise attack. A few times he wanted to shuck it: there were three of them now, and who else besides Walker would be that organized or motivated in this disintegrated wreck of a city to attack them? Nonetheless, the faint bruises around Mitchell’s throat were a good reminder not to toss the bar aside just yet. 

They cleared two blocks, and Anders could sense that Ty’s shoulders were starting to sag again. All the houses they’ve passed so far were pretty much flattened. Not that it mattered what state the buildings were in; whether you were on the street, in your bedroom, or in the car when the wave struck, if you were mortal – you were gone. But the sight still weighed them all down as they contemplated what they’d find upon reaching Ty’s and Dawn’s home. Anders wondered what Dawn had worn that morning, and if that would be the only thing left behind his trusted assistant and the love of his brother’s life. He couldn’t bear the notion. Aware that he was probably in deep denial, he pushed the thought from his mind and gathered up all the remaining resolve that he still possessed.

They passed another section of the street, almost reaching the point where it started to curve and slope down. Their progress slowed further, but not because of a mounting number of obstacles in their path - more so because of Ty’s growing reluctance to actually reach their destination. Anders frowned and turned to Mitchell, who was walking behind him, and he pushed the metal bar into the surprised brunet’s face. “Hold this, will you? I need to talk to Ty.”

Picking his way with cautious haste, Anders caught up with his brother. Just as he was about to open his mouth to ask Ty what was the matter, his chest collided with the arm that Ty held out, looking suddenly alert. “Did you hear that?”

Anders frowned and squinted his eyes as if that could help him catch whatever sound Ty thought he’d heard. There was nothing at first, and then –

Somewhere nearby, a small crash sounded; then a thud and a frustrated woman’s voice, cursing.

He and Ty both shot forward at the same time until they were at the crest of the hill, where they had a better view of the declining street. Anders’ heart had jumped into his throat: the voice had sounded familiar to his ears, but he almost didn’t want to believe his brain in case it was playing tricks on him.

And yet-

Like a goddess of wrath caught on her day off, there she was: blond hair in unusual disorder, dressed in a flowery dress, her feet bare. She cursed loudly again and climbed over a section of a ripped-off roof, nearly tearing the skirt of her dress in the process. Anders would have laughed in relief, but found that he couldn’t make a sound. To his left, he felt Mitchell bump his shoulder as he drew level with them.

A shout ripped out of Ty’s throat on Anders’ other side, and Dawn lifted her head at the sound of her name. The frustration wiped from her face instantly, and they could see more than hear her mouth his name in return. She covered her mouth with her hand, nearly doubling over with a sob of relief. Then, true to her tenacious nature, she set her teeth and renewed her uphill efforts.

“No, don’t move! I’m coming to you!” Ty yelled with tears in his voice, and it was as if he suddenly grew weightless, flying over whatever was in his way.

Anders and Mitchell stood there together as the lovers were enjoying their touching reunion. 

“They’re cute,” Mitchell smiled, watching Dawn kiss her boyfriend and touch his face, making sure he was really there. 

“Oh, I know your big sappy heart likes that sort of thing,” Anders said without thinking and with a hint of fondness in his tone.   
The brunet’s eyebrows went up, but Anders escaped the discomforting situation in order to join his brother and his assistant on the top of the house’s ruins. 

“The Ragnarok changed you, Dawn,” Anders grinned at the disheveled blond woman, “you’ve never cursed like this before.”

“I can curse all I want, Anders Johnson!” she grumbled, shaking a threatening finger at him, as if he was the sole person responsible of the end of the world. “I’m a freaking pregnant woman who survived the bloody apocalypse, for god’s sake!” 

Ty’s eyes grew wide and two rather shocked pair of eyes stared at the young woman,. “A what!?.... you… are… what!?” Ty stuttered. 

“Yeah. Surprise, honey!” Dawn announced with a little uneasy dance. “It’s not exactly how I wanted to break the news to you, but yes, I am eight weeks pregnant.” 

Her statement was followed by long seconds of mute astonishment. 

“Wow! Darling!!! That’s tremendous!!!” Ty rejoiced, dragging her in a hug once the initial shock had passed. 

“Yes. Of course, I’m delighted!” Dawn fumed with her tone dripping with sarcasm. “It’s super reassuring to be pregnant in a world with no functional hospitals anymore!” 

“But it’s probably what saved your life,” a serious voice pointed out behind the former gods’ backs. Ty and Anders turned around to look at Mitchell. “Having a part of Ty within you is probably what made the explosion spare you,” the irishman went on. “The baby being half-god: that probably also explains why you remember Ty while I don’t and why my last memory of you dates two months ago.” 

“But….” Anders objected. “The two parents must be gods for the baby to be a vessel too.” 

“Do you see any other logical explanation?” Mitchell asked. 

“No. I don’t,” Anders conceded. 

Mitchell held Anders eyes for a while, like the blond man was some extremely complicated war code to decipher. The late god or poetry heard his brother and his girlfriend whispering to one another, Ty probably explaining to Dawn what had happened to her irish friend. 

Mitchell broke the eye contact with Anders to look at the young woman. “I’m very glad you are alive, Dawn.” 

She smiled back, looking sorry for him. 

“I’m going to be an uncle,” Anders realized out of the blue, “I’m so not ready.” 

“Relax, Anders,” Ty chuckled, patting his brother’s shoulder. 

“We should move and find a shelter for the night,” Mitchell’s practical, soldier mind suggested. “With all the ex-vampires, ex-werewolves and I don’t know what other type of riffraff roaming the city, we better find a safe, hidden place to rest.” 

“John’s right,”Ty agreed, putting an arm around his girlfriend’s shoulders. “Are you going to be able to walk, love?”

“Yes, yes, I’ll be fine,” Dawn replied, looking down at her bare feet. “I pulled myself out from under the rumbles alone- I think i can handle walking.” 

“Follow me, all of you,” Mitchell demanded, guiding them down the rooftop and in a narrow passage between the destroyed houses and cars.

Mitchell being in a manly, protective, leader mode always was a turn on for Anders. The turn on was still there, but there was a bitter taste to it - like discovering you still had feelings for an ex who had moved on. 

They walked down Dawn and Ty’s street, but no house seemed safe enough for Mitchell’s appreciation. They turned onto another street of the silent suburb when Mitchell stopped dead in his tracks. Anders walked into him, his face meeting with black curls at the back of the other man’s neck. 

“Mitch?! What the-?” 

“Shhhh!” The former vampire ordered, making a gesture for Ty and Dawn to stop as well. “I heard voices,” he let out in an urgent whisper. They all stopped moving and pricked up their ears. 

They finally heard them - several indiscernible men’s voices coming their way. Anders saw Mitchell’s knuckles turning white as he tightened his hands around the metal bar, ready to fight. They stood motionless for long minutes, hoping the men would not notice their presence. 

“They could be anywhere, Mike,” they heard a young voice say. Ty and Anders immediately recognized their little brother and the blond’s heart took a normal beat again. 

“Axl!! We’re here!” Ty shouted, relieved. 

“Ty!?” Mike’s voice replied. 

Anders put a reassuring hand on Mitchell’s wrist. “That’s fine, you can let go. It’s my other brothers.” 

“Let me guess,” Mitchell hissed, “another bunch of people I’m supposed to know?”   
“I’m afraid so.”   
“It’s going to be awkward again,” the irishman sighed.   
“I’m sorry,” the blond man apologized as he saw Mike, Axl and Olaf appear from around a heap of wooden planks, concrete blocks and a crushed piano.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your comments and encouragement for the last chapter :)   
> D. and M.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comments on the last chapter. They are really appreciated. Hope you will like this one as well. :)  
> xxx  
> Dandelion and Mosslover

Anders was happy enough that his brothers and grandfather have survived, but he stayed back with Mitchell when Ty and Dawn hurried forward to greet and hug the men. He thought Mitchell might appreciate not being left out like a stranger, and the brunet did seem to relax his rigid posture a little bit next to Anders. It wasn’t, however, the only reason for Anders’ hesitation; his relationship with both Mike and Axl had been strained in the recent past, and the shadows their former disagreements cast were long enough to reach even here, to a post-cataclysmic reunion.

He tilted his head up to Mitchell and quietly reintroduced Mike, Axl and Olaf to him. Not that there was any reason for secrecy in the action - they’d know soon enough that Mitchell didn’t have any memory of them, and already Anders could tell that explanations were being exchanged amidst the hugs and reassurances. When Olaf lifted his head over Ty’s shoulder and smiled at him and Mitchell, his eyes were thoughtful, in an Olaf kind of way - although the oracle was gone from him, there was still the depth of the mortal man’s long years contained in there. Anders thought back to the time when all the god’s powers faded for several days due to Axl’s illness, and his grandfather’s unchanged appearance was suddenly much more comforting.

Axl was the first to step forward to them. Only then did Anders realize that his youngest brother was flanked by a tall, skinny, brown-grey dog.

Anders almost took a step back in surprise. “Who's dog is that!?” He felt Mitchell growing alert next to him again, drawing a tiny bit closer. Not sure whether it was meant as a gesture of protection towards himself, Anders was glad for it nonetheless.

“That's a wolf, actually,” Axl corrected with a hint of hesitation.

“A wolf? Since when do you have a wolf?” Anders tried to keep his voice from rising higher than necessary.

“Since this morning, but technically he’s been around for a while.” Cringing slightly, Axl glanced down at the animal which looked a little uncertain despite its size. “That's Zeb.”

“Zeb!? What!? ” Anders shook his head incredulously.”Oh fuck... I don't even wanna know,” he gave up, still fighting the urge to lean into Mitchell for reassurance and familiarity. How long was it going to take to accept that his boyfriend was not the same person as this morning? At least he hadn’t turned into a bat… In the light of Axl’s claim, that was something to be grateful for.

Mike took two steps forward to the pair of them and surveyed them warily. “You two alright?” He paused, appraising the brunet but speaking to the blond. “I hear that your boyfriend’s memory of all the gods has been wiped. That he doesn’t remember you. That’s… unfortunate.”

Anders bristled at Mike’s casual tone, at the tiny twinge of amusement that flickered through his older brother’s eyes. “You know what, fuck you, Mike! Just admit that you’re ecstatic about it, you never liked me being with Mitchell anyway.”

“I didn’t approve of your ‘relationship’ with the vampire, no” Mike said, eyes narrow and voice low in irritation, “but if you think I’m happy about him losing his memory-”

“Oh spare me,” Anders snorted. “By the way, he’s not a vampire anymore, you can actually start using his name.” Turning to Mitchell, he thrust a hand in Mike’s direction. “Meet Mike, my asshole of a brother who thought our relationship had been a joke.”

Mitchell gave Anders a bemused look, troubled by the exchange. Anders felt bad for placing Mitchell in the middle of the argument, but right now his anger and hurt trumped any other sentiment. “Well, Mike, it seems you got your wish,” he said bitterly.

“For fuck’s sake, Anders,” Mike cursed. “I don’t think my dislike of the ‘thing’ you two had was so unreasona-”

“Mikkel, Anders,” Olaf’s deep voice interrupted in an attempt to soothe the risen heckles. “Now is not the time to argue, we have other problems.”

The two oldest brothers still glared at each other, but held back whatever choice words they still intended to say. Mitchell contributed his own scowl to the crackling atmosphere between them until Olaf stepped up to him and introduced himself leisurely. “We’ve met before, but I’m Olaf. Anders’ grandfather. I used to be Baldr, god of rebirth, hence my un-grandfatherly looks.”

Mitchell gave a curt nod in response. He looked as if the day had reached the point where not much could shock him anymore. “Nice to meet you, um, again. Sorry, I don’t remember you.”

“That’s alright. We’ve survived a bit of a wacky apocalypse,” Olaf surmised, glancing over all of them, “I suppose it would be naive of us to expect an apocalypse to behave in completely predictable ways… All things considered, we should just be glad that we are all alive. I think that’s amazing.”

“I’m not sure Zeb’s that thrilled,” Axl pointed out, but the shaggy wolf sitting by his leg failed to look miserable just then.

“Mike, where’s Michele?” Ty said, holding Dawn tightly to his side.

“She spent the last two days with Ingrid and Stacy,” Mike said grudgingly. “We had a bit of a fight.”

“Ah ah,” Anders sneered. “That’s rich from you to judge anybody else’s relationship when yours is going so well.”

Mike opened his mouth to retort, but Ty interrupted them before they could start bickering: “If the goddesses are somewhere out there too, should we go look for them?”

“We don’t have time for that today, we must hurry... the sun is already setting,” Mitchell spoke next to Anders, looking at the darkening sky above their heads.

“Mitchell suggested we find a safe place to spend the night,” Ty informed the others.

“That seems to be a wise plan,” Mike conceded, like it pained him to give credit to the former vampire.

They all agreed to follow the irishman’s lead and they resumed their arduous progression in search for a shelter. They wandered for about about half an hour. Without any functional street lamps, never had Auckland seemed so dark.

Anders always hated darkness - always been afraid of it. It was probably due to his numerous memories of being hidden in a dark closet while he listened to his parents screaming at each other. His mind had associated the fright and the dark, and now, even as an adult, he always slept with his bedroom door opened and the bathroom’s light on. Nobody knew about that phobia…. nobody but John… which meant that now he was alone with his secret.

The dark was even scarier tonight, in this hostile world where villains like Walker were lurking in the shadows. Now that the adrenaline of the explosion, the fight and the search for his assistant had died down: Anders felt his body undergo the consequence of the successive shocks. His palms were moist and a shiver ran down his spine. His heartbeat was matching the run of a chased rabbit. He was going to have a panic attack if he didn’t find a way to calm down soon.

Anders sped up to catch on to Mitchell and, before he could overthink the whole situation, he did what seemed natural to him and he slipped his hand into the brunet’s large one.

Mitchell flinched at the sudden skin contact and he withdrew his hand.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to scare you,” Anders whispered, escaping the inquisitive gaze. He had never felt ashamed or childish to seek comfort with Mitchell- now he did. He still insisted - it was the only solution he had. “It’s just that I need it right now,“ he explained. “Can you just pretend it doesn’t bother you?” he added in a low tone so the others wouldn’t hear.

Mitchell hesitated, gulped, but his voice was firm when he whispered back. “That’s fine. It doesn’t bother me at all. I can hold your hand if it makes you feel safer.“ He laced his fingers with the smaller man’s properly as they resumed walking. “Is it why you are doing that? Because it makes you feel safe,” he asked. He seemed genuinely curious and somehow moved by Anders’ trust.

 _“You used to do that to reassure me when you knew I was anxious and it worked every time.”_ It would be the most honest answer. It’s still not exactly the one Anders chose. He opted for a simple, shy “yes.”

Mitchell smiled gently and squeezed the blond’s hand.

The contact of the brunet’s smooth, warm palm against his helped Anders relax enough to prevent the hyperventilation and he let the irishman guide him among the ruins, rubble and debris.

Fortunately, it was the full moon and its silver glow helped the group carry on with their quest.  
They finally ended up in front of a rectangular building: a community center that seemed to have been miraculously spared from the explosion.

They inspected it to make sure the building was empty from squatters as Mitchell never let go of Anders’ hand. The other abstained themselves to make any comments, much to the blond’s relief.

Mitchell and Mike made sure all the exits were locked up and blocked from inside, except from the front door. They organized guarding duty turns, beginning by Axl and Zeb.

Dawn dug out some bowling shoes to put on and Olaf found a fridge full of beer packs and soft drinks, and a cupboard with canned beans and soup. Ty blocked the windows with dark fabric while Anders lit up votive candles found at the bottom of a cupboard with the lighter he had borrowed from Mitchell.

When Mitchell came back from his inspection of the building, he reached in his pocket to take the Mars bar Anders had given him earlier. The chocolate and caramel was completely melted in its wrap.

“Oh well, we both forgot you were giving out body heat now,” Anders observed.

“It seems so….” Mitchell breathed, lost in thoughts. “You knew it was my favorite treat?” he asked the blond, already searching an answer in the blue eyes.

Anders nodded, feeling the sadness draw him back in its disagreeable embrace.

The former-vampire looked down again at the wasted treat. “How is it possible that you know everything about me and that I don’t know anything about you?”

“You… believe me now?” Anders asked tentatively. “You don’t think I’m lying anymore?”

The Irishman sighed. “My brain says that it’s impossible and that I shouldn’t believe you. But …I see that your pain is real. You seem so distressed : like you are deprived of something very dear to your heart and all the clues point in my direction.” He paused again, pensive, before asking: “Is there any way that I can find back the memories I seem to have lost?” 

“This is a question you should ask my brother and Dawn,” Anders pointed out. “I think it’s time for the four of us to have a little talk.”

“You think they can help me?” Mitchell asked doubtfully, glancing over to where Dawn and Ty seemed to be rounding up any sort of items that could serve as blankets and pillows for the coming night. They’d have to share the few couches that lined the walls of the large, open bowling area.

“They can help you understand, but that’s probably all they can do,” Anders admitted sadly. To distract himself, he watched Mike digging around in a tool box behind the counter, weighing a hammer in his hand for an unknown purpose; maybe just familiarity in a world turned upside down. Anders considered how happy it would make him to hit Mike over the head with it, for all the judgemental bullshit he’d had to listen to from his elder brother over the years. Then he sighed. His family wasn’t perfect, but now more than ever they were all he had.

Another image came to his mind then, of him and Mitchell fixing up a house somewhere gorgeous to live in together, making the most of the lives they were left with. But he wasn’t even sure he would have Mitchell for that - if his memories didn’t come back, it was entirely up to the former vampire to set out on his own. He was not bound to Anders anymore.

He snapped out of his thoughts when Mitchell nudged him gently on his upper arm. “Let’s go to talk to them. I expect they will want to get some sleep soon, especially Dawn…”

“Yeah.” Anders led the way over to the couple, and he could see Dawn’s practical mind spinning its wheels from across the room as she and Ty gathered more items that might come in handy. Anders was twice as happy she had survived, because if someone on this earth could be useful in an apocalyptic world, it was Dawn. Putting up with Anders’ shit for so many years had made her a survivor. She had became a pro at doing miracles with little help and limited means. In comparison, he felt ill-equipped for a life without all the little luxuries he enjoyed so much, wondering if they had made him soft. But he was also a boy who had grown up on a farm and with shitty parents, and he and his brothers often had to be resourceful to get by; he could always fall back on some of the skills he had relied on then.

Ty and Dawn, though, were sure to make a very efficient survival team.

“Hey, could we have a word with you two?” Anders said quietly when he and Mitchell reached the couple. “About Mitchell’s memory, and how it was for you two when Ty lost Hod a while back.”

Dawn’s focused expression gained a dimension of compassion as soon as she heard Anders’ question. “Yes, of course,” she nodded, adding the blanket she was currently folding to the growing pile, studying the discordant pair in front her. Ty sighed. “That was not a walk in the park, I tell you.”

“How did you lose Hod - was that your god’s name?” Mitchell asked, looking at Ty from under eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

Ty looked sideways at Dawn and smiled with a huff, a shadow of painful memories crossing his face. “I died - temporarily.”

When Mitchell’s eyes widened at that, he hurried to elaborate. “It was my choice - I was the god of cold and dark things, and I almost froze Dawn to death one night while we slept, when my precautions failed.”

Dawn squeezed his arm as he continued. “I took a poison and when the essence of Hod left me, Michele brought me back to life.”

Anders glanced at his amnesic ‘boyfriend’ and added: “She’s a doctor, and she took care of Yggdrasil at the time - a branch from the tree of life that we, um, acquired. She revived Ty with it.”

“So you - you made yourself a mortal? Jaysus...” Awe was apparent in Mitchell’s face. Anders knew it was at more than just Ty’s astonishing feat of expelling a norse god from his vessel. The vampire had confessed to Anders, while they were dating, that there was ever any possibility to get rid of the monster in him, he wouldn’t hesitate for even a second and go after it. Ty’s way, however, would probably not have worked for a vampire.

Ty gave a grim nod. “Yes. But the side effect I did not anticipate was that Dawn had no recollection of me at all. Or should I say - she remembered me as her boss’ younger brother, whom Anders might have mentioned once or twice but she’s never met.”

Mitchell opened his mouth at that, and Dawn turned to him. “Maybe you have a similar trace of Anders in your memories?”

“Yeah. In fact I do.” He looked sheepish as he recounted the moments that followed his rescue from under the overturned bed, and how he had been wondering if his savior was a deranged person, claiming they were lovers, while Mitchell barely remembered a passing mention from the rental agent about Anders Johnson being the previous tenant.

Anders watched Mitchell’s face during the retelling, and he could tell that the similarity of Dawn’s experience further served to convince the brunet that this all was true, that up until yesterday he had been very close to Anders, full of feelings there were just… not there, like somebody had drawn a curtain between that part of Mitchell’s past and the rest of his brain, disturbing all the connections in between. Mitchell looked at Anders at the end of his speech, as if apologizing for bringing that moment up again, and Anders gave him a tired ghost of a smile.

“Same as me then,” Dawn said. “I thought Ty was some kind of creepy, obsessive guy stalking me. Of course, I couldn’t understand until after my memories came back. When Hod returned to Ty, the memories all flooded back… it was like a dam bursting open that I hadn’t known was even blocking anything - it was confusing at first, but after we had talked, it all made sense again… it was...” she waved her hand as if lacking the words to describe it. Ty pressed a kiss into her hair.

“So…” Mitchell breathed, putting the puzzle pieces together, “unless I somehow manage to become a vampire again, chances are that I never get to remember anything.”

Ty nodded sadly as a confirmation. “Or if Anders got back to being Bragi.”

“I guess that even if there was a way, you wouldn’t want to be a vampire anymore. You always despised what you were,” Anders pointed out. “It would be stupid of you to get back to being something you hated for some dude you don’t even know who he is.” The heartbreak was real, but Anders didn’t want to let it show: not with Mike standing nearby and pretending he wasn’t listening.

“But if all this about our relationship is true, then what if I did want to know you?” Mitchell asked his so-called lover. “Is there a chance the gods might return? That they were just sucked out of you and will come back, like it happened to Ty?” Some of Anders’ sadness seemed to be mirrored in his eyes as his gaze skipped between the two brothers and Dawn.

“The gods are not returning, Mitchell,” Ty answered. “Their death is the only reason why we survived, just as the death of the vampire in you enabled you to stay alive. I’m truly sorry…”

“Even if it’s not likely that your memories will come back, though, why should you not fall in love with each other again? I mean, you did love one another for over a year and up until this morning, so there must have been a reason for that,” Dawn said.

Anders looked at his assistant. He admired her for the positive way she looked at things, but the irony of the situation wasn’t lost on him either. He used to be the god of poetry, for whom seducing people had been almost a hobby; a few words infused by the power of Bragi and they were willing bodies in his arms. But even when Bragi was a part of him, he hadn’t had any effect on Mitchell, and maybe because they had fallen in love the old fashioned way, it actually lasted and grew. Now, he’d have to do it all again? A fitting quest for the former vessel of Bragi, indeed, to have to woo his lover twice without the god’s help.

Although there was hope in what Dawn had said, Anders was nothing but tired. The question still remained whether the spark could ignite once more between him and Mitchell - could you repeat something so hard to define as falling in love? The idea of it sickened his heart with a fear that this time, he would fail.

“Excuse me, guys,” he said tonelessly, “I think I need some air. I’ll be outside...”


	5. Chapter 5

 

Anders walked to the only door of the community center that hadn’t been blocked. He found Axl and his wolf-friend keeping guard.

Anders’ brother was seated on the stairs outside, looking at the shooting stars that the absence of electric streetlights was making more visible than Anders had ever saw them.

“Hey,” Axl greeted him.

“Hey,” he breathed back.

The animal lying at  the younger man’s feet lifted its head to look at Anders.

“Sorry, but how the fuck did that happen?” the blond man asked, gesturing toward the potentially dangerous, wild animal. Though the inoffensive stare told Anders it really was his brother’s best friend under all that fur.

“I’m not sure, to be honest,” Axl frowned, following Anders’ gaze and looking at the wolf as well. “ Zeb always pretended he was Freki: Odin’s wolf. I guess that Odin used his last seconds of life and power to grant my wish and save my friend. For a god who could take whatever appearance he wanted, possessing that kind of power is somehow logical.”

“I think that ‘logical’ is the last word I would use to describe what happened today,” Anders sighed, sitting at his brother’s side.

“How are things going between you and Mitchell?” the Axl inquired.

Anders eyed his younger brother for a few seconds. Axl never really paid any interest to his private life before. Maybe being in that surviving situation had woken up a sense of solidarity between the Johnsons’ siblings. “They are not going anywhere,” he informed Axl, looking down and shaking his head.

“That’s shit, bro,” the young man sympathized.

“You tell me.”

“I wish I could do something…” Axl mused.

“Thanks, but I don’t think there is anything you and I can do. It’s all up to Mitchell, now.”

Axl yawned and Anders nudged him gently. “You should go to sleep. I’m going to take your guarding duty turn.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I won’t be able to sleep anyway.”

“Okay, then,” Axl decided, standing up. “Night, Anders.”

“Night, Axl.”

 

Zeb followed Axl inside and Anders was left alone on the stairs under the stunning night sky. He wasn’t able to let its beauty move him. He was too troubled for that.

_It’s all up to Mitchell, now._

These words held a frightening truth.

The blond man realized that his lover didn’t need him anymore.

Let’s be honest: yes, Mitchell and Anders were good together. They had awesome sex, and there was also a deep attachment between them, but there was a more practical reason why Mitchell got interested in him and which had made him stick with him. It was because Mitchell was a vampire, an addict to blood. All his life, he had searched for a savior - someone who could keep him from drinking. For Mitchell, someone like Anders, who wasn’t a mortal and hadn’t a blood as tempting as humans’, was literally a gift from the gods. But Mitchell wasn’t a vampire anymore, and by being freed from the blood lust, the brunet had also lost the main reason why he had been drawn to him. Anders had to face the reality: his boyfriend didn’t have any good reason to stay with him anymore.

Anders gulped in an attempt to get rid of the distress, but the disobedient lump in his throat stayed there. He would give anything for a whole bottle of vodka. Who was going to keep from from his own demons and addiction once Mitchell would be gone?

“Want a beer? It’s still cool,” a deep voice offered from behind his back.   

“Yeah. Thanks, babe,” Anders answered by rote, reaching a hand above his head where a cold, wet bottle was pressed. “Hm, I mean… ‘Mitchell’,” he corrected himself when he realized what he had said. “It’s kind of a reflex. I have a lot of these apparently. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, that’s fine,” Mitchell reassured him, uncapping his own bottle and sitting by Anders’ side on a higher step.

“Really?” the blond asked, sheepish, taking a tiny sip from his bottle.

“Well… it’s weird, I’m not going to lie, but I know it’s not your fault. I see that you are trying not to make me uncomfortable. And the situation must be harder for you to bear than it is for me.”

Anders evaded the compassionate gaze and they drank their beer, looking at the sky. Despite Mitchell’s last statement, it wasn’t an awkward silence. It was a comfortable one and Anders started to relax. Having the brunet close by had a homey feeling to it that he found comforting despite the situation.

Mitchell was the first to break the silence. “You mind if I smoke?”  He put his empty bottle away and reached inside his leather coat.

“Not at all.”

In fact, it was something familiar and reassuring for Anders. When they had an argument, the two men usually ended up having a talk outside Anders’ building and when Mitchell was lighting up a cigarette, the god knew it was a sign that his lover was ready to open up.

But instead of lighting it up, Mitchell looked at the white cylinder between his fingers for a second before tossing it away on the concrete along with the rest of the packet. “For a century I’ve been waiting for the good day to quit smoking. I guess the end of the world and the end of my blood addiction is the sign I was waiting for,” he declared. “I’m a mortal now. I may have little years ahead and I need to take care of my lungs.”

Anders forced a smile when Mitchell’s gaze met his. Not that he minded Mitchell quitting smoking. It was a good thing. It was the former vampire’s new resolution to start afresh that made him anxious. Getting rid of all his past life also meant getting rid of Anders.

The blond hadn’t noticed that while he was entertaining depressing thoughts, Mitchell’s eyes hadn’t leave his face.

“So.... I’ve been your boyfriend for a year, then,” the brunet asked, with an expression of faux casualness.

“Yep,” Anders simply replied, bringing his bottle to his lips.

“And... I loved you?”

The blond coughed, choking on his beer. “Wow! You go straight to the deep questions!”he complained when he finally managed to speak, taken aback by the straight-forward question.  

“I guess you can understand that I need answers,” Mitchell frowned. “Does it bother you if I ask? Was love a sensitive subject between us?”

“Yes and no,“ was Anders’ vague reply. Mitchell’s puzzled expression made the blond understand that the other man would not abandon this easily. “That’s fine. Ask your questions,” he sighed. “I’ll do my best  to answer.”

"Let me rephrase my previous one, then,” Mitchell insisted. “The way Ty looks at Dawn:

did I ever look at you the same way when we were together?”

 

Anders took a while to answer, contemplating the sky and choosing the right words that would be true without being scary of pushy. “Yeah... yeah you did... And you told me sometimes that you loved me: when you got emotional. You told me that I had saved you, redeemed you and things like that. And you were very cuddly,” Anders remembered, and he couldn’t help a fond, nostalgic smile from stretching his lips. Apparently, it was possible to be nostalgic from a past not older than twenty four hours. He became somber again. “Most of the time, I pretended your cuddly behaviour annoyed me: but it didn't. And now I wished I had let you know.”

“I see,” Mitchell breathed, watching him quietly before he cleared his throat. “ And you... you loved me?”

Anders sighed. He had anticipated this question and this time, it didn’t come as a surprise. “I'm not a very romantic or touchy-feely kind of guy. I know it was getting on your nerves sometimes. It was the matter of most of our fights.”

“We fought often?” the brunet wanted to know.

The smaller man shook his head. “No. I wouldn't say we fought often. God knows we are two strong personalities so when we fight it’s always... fiery,” he chuckled. “But most of the time we got along. Like best buddies, you know.”

Mitchell chuckled too, as if mirroring Anders’ expression. "I see how we would have gotten along," he observed with a soft smile. A mischievous spark lit up in his brown eyes. "Plus, you are totally my type."

"Yeah? You never told me that," Anders exclaimed. The blond knew that look, and the words didn’t leave any doubt that Mitchell had said them in a flirty spirit. 

The dark-haired man’s smile widened. " I love small men - easier to cuddle," he confessed with a wink.

"HEY! I'm not small!” Anders protested, shoving his shoulder against Mitchell’s. “Obviously there are a lot of things you don't remember about me," he sulked.  

Mitchell burst into laughter and the former god couldn’t stay in a dark mood for long. It was too good to see the other man laugh.

"Did I use to tease you about your height?" Mitchell inquired.

"Nah. Because you knew I would punch you if you did."

Mitchell laughed again. "Is that so? I wonder why am I not getting punched right now."

"Because I wouldn't have really punched you anyway," Anders admitted, "it was a kind of tacit agreement between us that you did not speak of my height and I did not speak of your greasy hair."

Anders expected to see his ex-lover pulling a face,  be annoyed or offended, but it was only fondness that he could read on his face.

“You make us sound like a married couple,” the former vampire pointed out.  

It was Anders’ turn to smile. “I hate to admit it, but yes. We were a bit of that.”  

Mitchell’s eyebrows went down. “It still doesn't answer my previous question. Did you love me?”

 

Anders’ smile disappeared at once, and this time, he couldn’t hold the brunet’s gaze. He had not said the words really often before, unless some abuse of alcohol or other drugs helped him put his walls down. But Mitchell wanted the truth, and Anders felt that he owed him that. If Mitchell decided to move on with his life, without him, at least he would do it knowing the truth. He swallowed down tears and replied with a broken voice. “Yes. Yes I loved you. And I still do. That’s what makes that situation even shittier.“

When he dared look again at the man who once loved him, he saw genuine sadness in the brown eyes. “I’m sorry, Anders,” Mitchell breathed, squeezing the blond’s shoulder in a friendly gesture. “I’m sorry I can’t remember.”  

As Anders didn’t seem able to say anything without letting out the tears he was fiercely trying to keep at bay, the taller man spoke again. “Okay. Here is another question, it’s the last one, I promise: what is the last thing I told you before the explosion; before we were separated and I lost my memory?”

The blond man kicked some gravel off the step. “I’d like to say that you made a long speech, like in the movies or something,” Anders replied. “But no: you only said ‘goodnight, babe.’ “

“It’s still sweet.”

“Yes, it is,” the blond conceded. “You were sweet,” he added in a whisper, still afraid this kind of declaration could scare his ex-lover.   

But Mitchell wasn’t looking directly at him. He seemed lost in deep thought, or trying to recreate with his imagination the memories he didn’t possess anymore. “When Dawn was talking about how she had lost her memory, she said she thought for a while that Ty was a creepy stalker because he followed her around and insisted that they were in love… And, well, you say that we loved each other, but I don’t think you’re creepy at all…”

“You don’t?” Anders asked. He knew he looked so hopeful it was on the verge of being pathetic. He hated himself for holding on to hopes that would inevitably be deceived. Whatever he did, he couldn’t go back in time. It would never be the same between Mitchell and him.

Mitchell turned to him with a calm, thoughtful smile. “No, I think you’re quite the opposite, actually.”

Anders had a flirty reply ready on his tongue out of reflex, but he bit it back, choosing instead a more neutral one. "Hmm. And what exactly is the opposite of creepy? Out of curiosity.” He couldn't help the slight upward quirk of his lips, though.

“I think you’re attractive as hell,” Mitchell admitted, his gaze lingering on Anders’ face.

Glad the darkness hid the slight blush that decided to sneak up into his cheeks, Anders laughed, pleased and surprised. “Must be a relief to still have the same taste.”

Mitchell’s expression blossomed into a small grin, the one that transformed him into an unbearably adorable vessel of sunshine. Anders loved to be the cause of one of those grins.

"It seems at least that didn’t change,” the brunet pointed out. He grew serious in the next moment, looking as if he was on the verge of a decision. “Can I try something?” he asked in a low voice, barely a whisper. He seemed hesitant - almost shy - but then fingers, slow and tentative, reached for Anders’ face and lifted his chin up. Breath caught in the blond’s throat in anticipation as he waited for what was to follow. He wanted to keep his gaze on Mitchell’s face, but the heat building up in the vicinity of his heart forced his eyes to close and he inhaled sharply when he felt Mitchell’s lips brush against his own.

 

It was strange, so strange: even this morning it would have been something so natural and commonplace between them. A kiss: never not exciting, never bland, even though they did have a certain amount of fast, “drive-by” kisses that were simply supposed to be a reassurance of what they were to each other rather than convey all the underlying passion. They’ve had fleeting kisses and long, desire-filled ones that were more like drinking from each other, and everything in between. So in the whole scheme of things, this kiss should have been nothing extraordinary. This morning, though, had changed everything. Anders wondered if this was the only way you could ever have a first kiss with the same person twice and feel completely undone by it. He ached for Mitchell’s touch so hard.

Mitchell’s lips lingered lightly against his, his breath warmer than usual on Anders’ cheek. The blond wanted to reach out and put his hand on the back of Mitchell’s neck, to where he knew his hand fit so snugly right under Mitchell’s hair and where it gave the brunet goosebumps. Yet a part of him felt as if that would be an unfair use of intimate knowledge. He refrained from touching, simply holding still as Mitchell’s lips pressed a little firmer, parting slightly, while at the same time long fingers left his chin and traced Anders’ stubble-covered jawline. It was a simple caress that Mitchell often gave him, and at the end of this nightmarish day, it felt like heaven, like home.

At least, Mitchell wasn’t repulsed by the tentative kiss, even if he seemed less sure than usual in his explorations. Anders wanted desperately to deepen it, but more than ever he was afraid that if he did something wrong, something hasty and forward and assuming, he’d blow perhaps the only chance the pair of them had to re-forge something from the mangled ruins of their relationship.

It was this paralysis, this fear, that made him pull back slightly, despite his body screaming at him to stay as close as possible to his former lover. The brunet seemed surprised, confused; he chased after Anders’ lips until the blond spoke.

“Mitchell…” he said, his voice hoarse from harsh breathing he’d been trying to conceal. “Don’t… don’t do this because you feel sorry for me.”

“I’m not,” Mitchell assured him, pulling back as well to search Anders’ eyes. The moment stretched until Anders could barely stand the tension. All pretense was stripped from him and there was no hiding the amount of want and fear and vulnerability that Mitchell could read in his eyes if he cared to, if he knew how.

It didn't seem to be pity that reflected back at him from the other man, though - it was sadness over a loss the depth of which he was grappling to understand; it was curiosity, as well,  and a genuine wish to know.

In the near-darkness of the staircase, there were deep shadows in Mitchell's somber face. The brunet’s eyes were half-closed when he shifted closer again and whispered, “Kiss me, Anders."

 

Anders chucked all caution to the wind and went for it. His cut hand protested vaguely when he allowed it to slide up the side of Mitchell's throat and around the back of his neck, but he blocked the pain from his mind as he felt a tiny, familiar shiver go through Mitchell at the touch. He closed the distance between them quickly, sealing his lips with the brunet's, teasing them open without preamble.

Mitchell didn’t shy away from him: he tilted his head to the side, hand first resting on Anders’ shoulder and then slowly reaching up to rest between the blond’s shoulder blades, where it seemed to be burning a hole through Anders’ suit, dress shirt and skin. The blond pushed with his lips, wanting desperately to feel Mitchell’s plush, moist lips push back. But he didn’t even get a chance to start worrying, because Mitchell returned the pressure right away. Anders groaned into the brunet’s warm mouth, sticking his fingers into Mitchell’s tangled hair, while his other hand lost its grip on the beer bottle Mitchell had handed him earlier. He'd completely forgotten about its existence and now it clattered and rolled down the stairs, spilling the remaining beer on its way.

Mitchell shuddered when Anders’ fingers scratched his scalp lightly, and a wildfire of an urge to provoke more such reactions burnt through the blond’s insides. He rested his freed hand on Mitchell’s knee, stroking it with the pad of his thumb through the brunet’s slim-cut jeans. The vampire’s body used to be cooler than it felt now, but touching him still evoked the same memories, a world of them: Mitchell wrestling him into the couch after a particularly snarky comment from Anders; Mitchell pulling sheets off of him on a Sunday morning, forcing him out of bed so they could eat breakfast together for once; Mitchell moaning into the gray satin sheets as Anders covered him with his own body and took him in a quick burst of passion; Mitchell pulling him into his arms for a cuddle afterwards.

This closeness - he didn’t want to lose it, be it affectionate hugs, steamy sex or just the comfort of a shared life. They’d have to rebuild everything, but god, he needed the chance to do so more than air right now. He deepened the kiss to desperation and then finally pulled away, breathless and hopeful and terrified. The taste of Mitchell’s lips still lingered on his own, tantalizing and torturing him.  Mitchell stared at him, slightly dazed, but his eyes were the clearest since this morning.

 

Slowly, their inhales and exhales stretched out to calmness, and neither of them seemed to be in a rush to separate from the other. Quite the opposite, in fact, to Anders’ mute delight; Mitchell rested his chin against his head, the hand on the blond’s back running little lazy circles. “It’s funny,” he said, sounding intrigued rather than amused. “You seem to fit so well against me... My brain doesn’t remember this relationship, but it’s like my body does. Isn’t that strange?”

Anders hummed and closed his eyes, letting Mitchell’s melodic voice continue with the musings. “Even your name fits right in my mouth, like I’ve said it so many times and the shape of it is so familiar, it flows very easily… Anders -” He paused, even the fingers on the blond’s back coming to a halt.  Anders was about to lift his head in response when the brunet continued: “If every time we kissed felt like that, the universe is a real bitch for making me forget it.”

Anders laughed into Mitchell’s leather jacket, a bit of his worry chipping away after the last statement. “I’m not just good at kissing. Wanna find you about my multiple talents?” he teased, pulling away to wink at the brunet.

Mitchell returned his smile. “I believe you, but as tempting as it is, let’s take it one step at a time, shall we?”

“Yeah,” the blond conceded, serious. “You are right.”  He parted from Mitchell and sat straight on the step, putting his hands on his own knees. He didn’t know what to do with them, now that they weren’t on Mitchell anymore.

“After you were gone, Dawn, your brothers, and your grandfather started speaking about what they are going to do next,” Mitchell informed him.  

Anders squirmed, uncomfortable. He didn’t want to think of the future. It was like a large, gaping hole in front of his feet. He knew he would have to jump in, but the unfathomable darkness of it was scaring him more than anything. This future held many uncertainties. The main one being: would Mitchell be part of it, or not? Would one nice kiss be enough to keep him by his side?

“What are they planning to do?” Anders inquired.

“Your older brother suggested that you find the goddesses and then, find working cars, pack everything useful you can find into them, and go out of the city and to Norsewood,” Mitchell summarized.  “But why Norsewood, if I may ask?”

“I grew up in Norsewood. We were living on a farm when I was a kid.”

“Norse gods from Norsewood,” Mitchell chuckled. “That makes sense.”

“You are not the first one to point that out,” Anders remarked without humor.   

“Are you going to follow them there? To Norsewood?”

“Hm. I guess I don’t have much of a choice,” Anders mused. “Staying alone in the city is too dangerous, and Dawn would be lost without me. I can’t do that to her.”

Mitchell nodded, looking at his feet.  

“What about you?”Anders asked, trying to conceal the anxiousness in his voice. “You don’t have any attachments here. You can go wherever you want. You can build a raft and sail back to Europe.”

“Yes. That’s true. I’m free. I’m a human now,” Mitchell replied, running a gloved hand in his hair. “I’m done with the hunger and the killing. It’s more than I ever dared to hope for. I finally gained my long-awaited freedom, but…”

“But what!?” Anders pressed him, pulling on the edge of his suit jacket in a nervous tic.  

“It seems that there was a catch and I also lost a lot at the same time. And… you know,” he hesitated, avoiding Anders’ expectant gaze, a shy smile floating on his lips. “The thing is: I met that very cute guy today. He seems to know me by heart, he kisses like a god, even if he isn’t one anymore and… he intrigues me. I want to get to know him better.”

Anders felt his heart beating faster and this urge to kiss Mitchell’s breath away. “Is it true?” he questioned.  

“Yes. It is,” Mitchell confirmed. “I’m still confused about all this. It’s a lot to digest,” the former vampire admitted, daring looking at the smaller man this time. “I don’t want to give you any false hope. I may never remember what happened between us prior to the explosion, but I want to come with you to Norsewood if you agree. I want to give this - to give us a second chance. Dawn is right. If it worked one time, it can work again.”

This time, Anders couldn’t restrain himself. He grabbed the brunet by the nape of the neck and pulled him closer into a relieved and passionate kiss. “Mitchell… baby…,” he breathed, overwhelmed by an intense rush of emotions when they parted slightly.

Mitchell’s gaze searched his.“ Beware. You don’t know what I’m capable of,” he said in a dark chuckle.  “Keep on looking at me like that with your blue eyes and smiling with those dimples of yours and I could do something impulsive. I could fall for you, Anders Johnson…”

“I’m counting on it.”

  
  


**The End**

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all lovely people who left us comments on that story. we had a lot of fun writing it and I hope you had fun reading it. ;)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Please leave us a comment with your thoughts :)


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